


Sacred Blasphemy

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Repugnant (Band)
Genre: Backstage, Brief Mentions Of Necrophilia, Coming Untouched, Concerts, Death Metal, Dirty Talk, F/M, Inappropriate Erections, Loss of Virginity, Opposites Attract, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Your friend takes you to a concert you'd never otherwise attend, where you catch the eye of a guy you'd never otherwise look at. Your standards may change after the show.
Relationships: Mary Goore/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Sacred Blasphemy

**Author's Note:**

> A request from anon on tumblr: Mary x virgin fem!reader, girl's not usually his type, but god damn it he's into her in an "opposites attract" way.

When your friend had suggested (begged) you to come along to the concert with her, you had spent hours thinking up excuses at to why you couldn’t. You weren’t being a bad friend-- you just had no idea who these people were, and you’d never heard their music. Besides, you had never been to a death metal show before. Weren’t they like, really dangerous?

“Wear this,” you friend says, tossing you a balled up black shirt. You open it up, and read the logo. _Repugnant_. It’s got some kind of congregation of strange looking skeletons on it, all gathering around a tomb. Reluctantly, you pull it over your head, and your friend comes over to inspect you. “Perfect. Just a little...” He gives the shirt a tear, and you look down, horrified, over your exposed cleavage. 

“My breasts!” you blurt.

“You have nice tits, show em off! Don’t worry, your nipples are covered,” your friend dismisses with a nasty little smirk. You huff a laugh. 

“What are you trying to do here?”

“I’m trying to help you enjoy the concert,” she teases, and hands you a hoodie, just as black. “Here. I’m sorry, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You look down at your outfit, and hand the hoodie back. 

“No. This is fine. I’ve got a pink hoodie I’ll grab on the way out.” She nods, and finishes applying her lipstick, making sure all six earrings are in one ear. “You look good.”

“Thanks. I’m trying to get fucked by the lead singer.” 

You glance down at your shirt. “He’s not one of those skeletons, is he?” She laughs. 

“Much sexier.” She pulls you in front of the mirror, and looks over the two of you. You apply some pink lip gloss, and adjust your miniskirt. “We look like pastel goth girlfriends,” she grins. It’s true-- she’s in all black, spikes and rings and black makeup looking like Nancy from The Craft, and you’re beside her looking like Regina George in pink sparkles. The only things that tie you together are the matching band tees. “Okay,” she announces, “Ready!”

The two of you call an uber, and the driver surveys your outfits. “Going to a goth bar?” 

“Concert,” your friend grins. 

“Oh, yeah? What show?”

“Repugnant.”

“No shit,” the driver says, programming his GPS. “They go hard, man. You moshing?”

“You know it.”

“Shit, hats off to you. You girls must be hardcore.” Your heartbeat picks up. What had you gotten yourself into going to see this band? Were they, like, the devil incarnate? There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but you’d rather not get sucked into the pit and ripped apart tonight by angry metalheads. Your friend gives your hand a reassuring squeeze though, and your head calms down for a moment. 

Once you get to the venue, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see it’s outdoors. At least you won’t suffocate. You start to wonder what Repugnant actually sounds like, music wise. Your friend hadn’t played any for you, insisting you go in ‘open minded.’ She probably thought you wouldn’t like it, but she’d be surprised. You like most rock music-- you just aren’t as loud about it as she is. 

The two of you squish your way to the front, and the fact that you’re two cute girls decked out in merch earn you a bit of leeway to bend the rules of the pit. Once you’re up to the barrier, you survey the stage. Things were dark, lit only by some soft blue lights, and the instruments were already out. You had about five minutes until they were about to hit the stage. 

“So... who is this guy again?” you ask your friend. She looks up from her phone. 

“His name’s Mary Goore. He’s spooky as fuck.”

“Sounds cool,” you say, looking around again. You’re a little nervous still, but you try to keep it in perspective. You’d enjoy the show, maybe, then afterward you’d crash at your friend’s place... if she wasn’t too busy getting fucked by this Mary Goore guy. The thought of having a sexual encounter with a band member like that sent a thrill through you. You’d never even entertained the idea. You’re still a virgin-- you hadn’t found the right opportunity to change that, but you’d like to. Especially since the idea of getting fucked backstage like your friend had described in her fantasy was sending waves of arousal through you. 

Interrupting your thoughts, the lights on the crowd went down, and a growling voice erupted from the stage in front of you. “Are you ready to get fucked up?!” the voice growled, and when everyone around you cheered, the guitars hit, blasting out sound that could probably be heard for miles. Curiosity fills you as you try and make out the singer-- you can barely see through the dark. Then the spotlight hits him, and you swallow a gasp. 

He’s slender, graceful fingers mashing the guitar chords as he headbangs. His clothes are tattered and his scrunched up face is covered in dripping stage blood. He looks like a corpse... but a very, very sexy one. You look over to your friend, who’s mouthing the words, and feel yourself start to headbang along. This shit is good-- there’s just something about it that makes you want to let loose. 

Up on stage, Mary launched into the second verse of From Beyond the Grave. As always, he was lost in his screamed vocals and caught up in the mayhem of the guitars. It got him high, feeding off the crowd’s anarchy as well, and he loved feeling the violence course through him through music. 

_“Awakened by mistake, overdose of radiation!”_ He growled out the last note, and let the guitars take over the outro of the song. The song ended, and Mary gave a quick look out at the crowd from beneath his bangs. Normally, he would pick a partner for the night from the pit, spit on them once or twice during the set to let them know he was interested, and get his dick sucked backstage while whatever goth prince or princess got to live out their sick fantasy of being fucked by a corpse painted sadist with him. It was fulfilling for the most part, but it got tiresome sometimes. 

There’s a hot goth in the front there, who he’d definitely have a chance with. Then his eyes fell to the girl beside her. Mary frowned to himself at his body’s instinctual reaction. What the fuck? The pretty little daddy’s girl beside goth bitch was nothing like anyone he ever wanted to sleep with. So why was his dick so interested? As the band started up the intro to Hungry, Mary stewed in his feelings for a minute, glaring. He was imagining her pretty ass, sat on his cock, while he told her how beautiful she really was. He wanted to defile her, stain those pretty pink clothes black with soot, maybe some blood... 

Why the fuck would someone wear pastel pink to my concert? he thought, utterly dumbfounded. This confusion was dangerously leading to intrigue, which is what it had become by the time he started singing again. There was no point denying it. He was attracted to her, and couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Oh my god,” your friend shouts to you over the music, “He’s looking at you!” 

“Who?!” you shout back. 

“Mary!” she grins, and you look up. It’s true. He’s been chancing looks every now and then your way, and you may be a virgin, but you know those looks can only mean one thing. 

“I think he was looking at you, not me!” you yell. 

“No, no,” she laughed. “He _wants_ you.” You should be scared at the thought. Instead, you’re turned on. 

The more Mary Goore looks at you through the show, the wetter you become in your panties. It soon gets to the point where you have to roll your hips against your hand for some relief. 

_Shit,_ he thinks. He hammers at his guitar, before turning back to you to check. _Is she touching herself?_

_“Your remnants so unpure, jailed to putrefaction you're... draped in cerecloth!”_ He rasps, pointing to you, and sees you bite your lip. His dick twitches in his pants, and he tries to play it off, giving himself some relief by thrusting toward the crowd to the manic beat of the drums. 

Below, you watch his slender hips move, how he keeps thrusting in those tight, ripped jeans. You can clearly see the outline of a bulging hard on, and you rub faster against yourself, breathing ragged. 

“Mary,” you breathe, whisper lost in the wild mosh pit and hellish screams. The rocker looks right at you, and the desire in his look makes you bite your lip and cum hard, untouched. His pupils blow as his eyes widen. He watches you shake and shudder through what appears to be an orgasm, and he almost forgets the next line to the song. Focusing his sexual energy instead on his performance, he screams the ending as loud as he can, and turns to face the other way for the guitar solo to hide his obvious erection. 

_Oh, you are so getting fucked tonight._

Your friend’s favourite song, Another Vision, starts, and after that one, comes the last in their setlist: Spawn Of Pure Malevolence. You’re not paying attention to the words anymore-- not that they’re discernible anyway-- you’re just imagining how good it would feel for hips to be thrusting into you like that, to hear that growled voice between your legs. Before you know it, the show is over, and your friend is taking your arm. 

“Did you see Mary’s eyes?!” she blurts. “He wanted you so bad!”

“He probably eye fucks his entire crowd all the time,” you roll your eyes, though you can’t deny the ache that’s returned between your legs. You can feel how slick your panties are from your accidental orgasm, and your cheeks heat up. You would take that to the grave with you. All you wanted to do now was get a nice hot shower, _maybe_ take care of yourself again if you still needed to--

“Excuse me,” a security guard says, and you both turn. “Frontman wants to see you.” Your heartbeat hammers again, and your friend giggles, leaning in and placing a condom in your hand. 

“It’s okay, hun. The guy behind me in the pit is just as hot, so let’s live our best lives, and catch up in the morning okay?” You swallow, and look at her. She raises her eyebrows, smile disappearing. “You alright? We can leave, and the guy can go fuck himself.” You shake your head. 

“I’m really fucking horny for him, but I’m nervous.” 

She smiles, and squeezes your hands. “Use protection, use a safe word, and keep your phone on so you can check in.” She leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “It’s not all it’s chalked up to be, babe. It’ll probably be over in 5 minutes, and you’ll be stuck finishing yourself.”

“Thanks. That’s reassuring,” you grin. She hugs you, and sends you on your way with the guard. You’re deposited soon after backstage, in a little dressing room covered in clothes, makeup and beer cans. 

“I’m fucking slaughtered,” the bass player groans. 

“Anybody know where the beer went?” the drummer asked. 

“We fucking drank it all.”

“ _Fuuuuck_.”

“Everybody out!” a sharp voice shouts. The band disperses with mild grumbling, and you’re left alone with the young man sitting on the couch. “So. You’re the girl who came in her panties watching me sing,” he says. You’re stunned speechless.

“That was... not supposed to be as, uh... obvious as it was,” you cringe. He raises an eyebrow. 

“You mean you weren’t trying to turn me on?” he asks. It’s a genuine question. 

“No,” you balk. “I was just... affected.”

“I’ll say,” he grins wolfishly, and gets up. “Well, then. It’s not gonna suck itself. And I’d like to get my fingers up that little skirt of yours, maybe leave a few bites on that ass.” He comes forward, and captures you in a searing kiss, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. The pace is immediately hurried, and you feel the need to let him in on your secret. 

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, biting your lip. “I’m...” 

“Are you a virgin?” he asks. You bat your eyelashes at him, and nod. “Fuck... that’s hot.” He goes to kiss you again, then hesitates. “Um. Are you sure you want me to be your first?” He looks awkward when he asks it, and it makes your heart melt. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “I want you so bad that at this point, if I don’t get your cock tonight, I’m going to be seriously depressed.” He laughs, a strange sound to hear coming from the bloody corpse in front of you. 

“Tell me again how much you want my cock.”

Your skin flushes. “I want to feel your cock deep inside me. I need it so bad.”

“You got it.” With another kiss, he lays down over top of you on the couch, running his hand down your middle. “I don’t know what it was,” he murmured, “But when I saw you, I had to have you.”

“Yeah?” you moan. 

“Yeah. I wanna fuck this tight little hole til it’s full and throbbing, and--” He pauses again, on his knees. “You good with dirty talk?” 

“Yes,” you say impatiently, “Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m not a slut.” He grins, and pulls your panties off from under your skirt. He brings them up to his nose, and tucks them in his back pocket. 

“How badly do you want my cock?” he asks, reaching down to palm himself. “Huh? Did you think of it, watching me onstage? Of wrapping your lips around it? Did you think of it inside you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I need it, Mary.”

“Say my name again.” He unzips his pants, and growls at the relief of letting his erection out. “Fuckin’ say it.”

“Mary, I want you to fuck me,” you whisper, and he lowers himself down again. You can feel his fist coming up to stroke over his cock against your stomach, and your hips wiggle in anticipation. 

“Have you ever fingered yourself before?” he whispers. You nod, and he jerks his cock faster. “How often?”

“I like to make myself cum at least once a day,” you whimper, arching your back. You crave the friction of his fist grazing you. “Sometimes more, if I really want it.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles, and mutters something in Swedish as he kisses you again. His fingers trail down, and you grant him access by spreading your legs. He continues to kiss you as he starts off with two fingers, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing. You moan through the kiss, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his teased punk hair. He bucks his hips when you tug it, so you do it again, until he can’t handle it anymore. “You got condoms?” 

“Here,” you say, and hand it to him. You don’t know how to roll it on, but he does it quickly. You get a good look at his cock-- it’s like what you had seen in porn before, on the rare occasion you had watched it. He was a little smaller than the porn stars, sort of an average size, pale skin with a bit of unkempt hair at the base. Regardless, you were almost drooling looking at it, but your attention was taken elsewhere as he positioned himself between your legs and kissed up your neck, getting black makeup and fake blood on you. “Tell me what you want to do to me?” you whisper. He teases his cockhead at your entrance, and exhales. 

“I’m gonna fuck you rough until you scream my name. I’m gonna make sure you can’t walk tomorrow, baby.” He pushes into you slowly, and your eyes roll back. When your legs hug him tighter, he buries to the hilt, drawing his hips back to pound back in. “Oh, yeah. You like that?” When you don’t answer, he slows, gauging your reaction. 

“Can I...” you bite your lip. “Can I be on top?” He moans, and switches positions so that he’s sitting with you in his lap. He holds himself upright, so that you can easily slide down onto him. Your gasps turn to groans as you sink down, inch by inch, and when you’re fully seated, you feel Mary bury his face in your chest. 

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he rasps, and rocks his hips up. You cry out at the sensation, and he throws his head back. “Can I move? Can I please, please move?” You nod feverishly, and he holds a hand on his back as he begins to thrust up into you, bouncing you in his lap. You’ve never felt so full, and you love the feeling. As he goes on, you start to gain confidence, rocking down to grind into his thrusts. Every time you do this, he loses it a little more, until he’s a growling mess, lost in the sensations. “You gonna cum on my cock? Huh? Little fucking whore?” he snaps. 

“Yeah,” you nod, lower lip trembling as you clench around his cock. “I’m your whore. Make me cum, please--”

“Feel so good, princess. Feel so good, I love this pussy. Pussy’s so nice, the fucking best, so dirty, so good,” he rambles. You start to feel your orgasm build, and he brings his hands up to grope your breasts. The added stimulation makes you moan, and he leans forward to rip your Repugnant shirt further open, move your bra cup down, and suck your nipple into his mouth. 

“Mary, fuck me,” you babble, “Fuck me deeper, need you.” 

“Cum on this cock,” he growls. “Get it all over me, babygirl, min lilla jävla prinsessa, ah!!” You fall forward into his chest, kissing him hot and wet as your orgasm hits you. He fucks you through it from beneath, leather couch squeaking beneath you, and as he gets there, his dirty talk gets a little more extreme. “Gonna fuck rip you from the inside, baby. Gonna taste you when I drink all of you up, fucking take it, take this dick, feel it in your guts, fuck-- ahh, ah, fuck!” You feel him still inside you, pushing his hips up once more, deep, as he empties himself inside the condom. 

“Did you cum?” you ask, eyes wide and chest heaving. He gulps. 

“That’s an understatement.” You roll off of him. He gets up to deposit the condom in an overflowing trash bin, and you watch the edgy goth rocker you just lost your virginity to. He is the opposite of your type, but there’s just something raw about him. He collapses back on the couch, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about all that gross shit I said. It’s like I couldn’t stop... I mean, I’m sorry if it made you unc--” You climb over top of him, and silence him with a long kiss. 

“Mmm, you gonna sacrifice me now? Do all those things you’re pretending you’re sorry you said?”

“Can’t. You’re not a virgin anymore,” he sighs. 

“Damn.” You lift up your pink skirt. “Guess you’ll just have to eat me yourself.” 

That evil smile resurfaces, and he chuckles darkly. “Much better than eating from a coffin.” 


End file.
